


nice shirt. what's it made of?

by arcanawildcard, clairelutra



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Petting, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard/pseuds/arcanawildcard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: The year following Akira's probation in Tokyo, Haru invites all the ex-Phantom Thieves and their two new additions, Shiho and Mishima, to spend the summer at one of her father's beach houses.The night before they're set to leave, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Mishima learn the identity of Akira's longtime crush, and decide to form a Sacred Bro Pact: help their mutual bro Get The Girl.Ann is oblivious, Shiho is amused, Haru has tea, and Akira didn't ask for any this. He really didn't.After several months of suffering a long-distance relationship,Ann and Akira are eager to make up for lost time. Now they just have to make sure not to get caught.(A.K.A. the NSFW riff off my other fic,boyfriend material, taking place in an alternate universe where Ann and Akira are in an established (very very 'established') relationship. This won't make sense unless you read that first.)
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Takamaki Ann, Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann, Persona 5 Protagonist/Takamaki Ann
Comments: 17
Kudos: 89





	nice shirt. what's it made of?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RVDA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RVDA/gifts).
  * Inspired by [boyfriend material](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21463462) by [arcanawildcard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard/pseuds/arcanawildcard), [clairelutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra). 



> you know what you did. 👀
> 
> theoretically may multiple chapters, but we'll see where that goes. \o/ if this continues, each will be a smutty version of a corresponding chapter of [boyfriend material](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21463462)—this current one is an au to chapter 4.

Ann didn't know why they were studying.

She was giving it her best shot, but Akira was sitting _right across from her_ and they were _alone_ and he looked like _that_ and—

(And when she'd sucked him off in the public bathroom at the mall yesterday, she'd brushed off his offer of parity—a decision she was _regretting_ that because she loved Shiho with all her heart, but sharing a living space with her meant that Ann couldn't get off on her lonesome. She _ached_ all over in edged (ha) frustration, and the fact that he wasn't touching her right now was _torture_.)

—and math wasn't making that needy longing between her legs go away. It wasn't making her less itchy _or_ less antsy _or_ doing a single thing about the sigh that just _would not_ leave her chest.

There were things that would fix this. There was one big thing that she very much _wanted_ , and a few that she'd be happy to settle for, and Akira was giving her _none of them_.

What Akira was giving her was confusion, a pair of uselessly wet panties, and math.

_Math._

He wouldn't even tell her _why_ they were doing math! He'd just shot Ryuji a dark look before dragging her off to destinations unknown that all seemed to lead to... math.

So here they were, doing math. In this out-of-the-way parlor with a perfectly good sofa and a perfectly good table and four perfectly good walls and even a perfectly good empty patch of floor that they had all to themselves.

Doing math.

Not even doing each other in mathy ways, just... _math_.

She'd be able to pay much better attention to the math if they'd stopped to do other things (each other) first, but they had not. They'd just skipped right to the math part.

She tried and failed to sigh the tension out of her chest for the nth time in the past hour, and the corner of Akira's mouth quirked.

And then he stiffened.

_"Ann...? Ann—! Oi! The hell'd you go, man?"_

That look that flickered over Akira's face—sharp and on high alert, perfectly poised for fight or flight, that flash of cool steel in his eyes—made the knots in her stomach _squeeze,_ the butterfly-flutters taking on a sensual pulse.

She felt her pencil slip from distracted fingers, her breath catching in her chest at the picture he made as a corner of her brain whined about him not being inside her _right now_.

If this were the Metaverse, she'd be dead.

This wasn't the Metaverse though. It was Haru's mansion, and that was Ryuji, not a Shadow, and Ann was so frustrated that she couldn't even bring herself to try to figure out what was going on here.

The tension in Akira coiled like a a spring as Ryuji's footsteps approached, then _snapped_.

Ann felt a bit like she was two steps behind everything, but Akira's hand had clamped around her wrist, hot as a brand, and the world was kind of going sideways and blurry—

And then she was finally, _finally_ in his arms.

The hand covering her mouth served as a command not to make a sound, but it was all she could do not to moan at the tense embrace.

He was holding her back tight against his chest, long legs sprawled on either side of hers and the arm of the sofa blocking the door from view—surrounding her from every side and angle, all lean muscle and taut heat, his heart thrumming through the thin material of his t-shirt and his breathing meticulously even and silent.

Meanwhile, Ann's belly had turned into molten goo, her breasts sensitive and her nipples stiff. The state of her underwear was best left left unmentioned; she was going to start soaking through her bike shorts if this kept up.

"Ann? Hey, Aaaaann—tch. _She's not here either!"_

 _"Seriously?"_ Mishima shouted back, a hallway or two away. His footsteps approached too. _"Where did they go?"_

"'Eff if I know," Ryuji grumbled, his voice dimming as he presumably pulled back from the door. "You sure we need to find 'em?"

"Queen's orders," Mishima said blithely. "Maybe we should call her or something?"

"'S not like she's gonna let us off on this one..." Ryuji sighed. "Should probably check in, though."

There was a corner of Ann's brain that wondered how Ryuji had managed to miss the study materials still scattered over the work table, but it was a very small corner, because the rest of it was taken up with paying attention to Akira's slow exhale.

The arm around her middle then relaxed from vice-tight to a much gentler and more substantial hug, and Ann felt herself _melt_ from the inside out. She squeezed her knees together, releasing a silent, stuttering sigh of her own at how much _better_ that felt now that she was all wrapped up in him.

Ryuji and Mishima's conversation filtered in and out of her ears without sticking, senseless words losing out the palpable shift in Akira's attention. His hand started carefully stroking her hip, intent and testing and curious, and it was all Ann could do not to shift around too audibly as she tried to find relief for the sheer _need_ building at the apex of her thighs.

Outside the room, she registered that a third voice (Makoto's?) had joined the conversation, tones of annoyance and boredom and protest meeting in tandem, but that mattered much less than the path Akira's hand was tracking down her hip.

He followed her thigh crease down, down, down past her crotch, down to her legs proper, then slipped under the hem of her brand new dress and back up again.

Ann said goodbye to functioning lungs.

The shift of her underwear against the skin underneath as his fingers trailed over them was _agonizing_ —her abdomen jolting and jumping when they found the waistband, then quivering as he slid under them, too.

Her lungs were forced to start up again then, the ticklish-light touch pushing gasps through her throat, and it was all she could do to keep them silent as their friends kept talking through the open door.

His nails dragged over the bare skin of her mound, winding her up so tight in anticipation she felt like her whole _body_ was about to _snap_ —

The pad of one finger found the cleft of her sex, pushed in and then _down_ on her swollen, slick-coated clit—

And the whole world went white.

Overwhelming _waves_ of pleasure arched her back bow-tight, electrified her extremities, pulsed in her breasts and her thighs, her belly and her backside, in her chest and zapped up to the back of her neck. She could feel her jaw locking so tight her teeth hurt to keep down the gasp, air constricted and pressing against her vocal chords, desperate to get out on a _shriek_ —

She didn't shriek. She didn't even whimper. She let all that air out on a silent, shuddering, half-broken breath, her mouth relaxing into Akira's palm and tears wetting the corners of her eyes.

She hadn't come, but she was pretty sure she'd felt herself squirt. Her bike shorts were probably completely totaled now.

He squeezed her body in something that would have been a hug if one hand hadn't been over her mouth and the other in her underwear. He was mouthing soft, sweet kisses over the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder, which would have felt much softer and sweeter if she'd actually come. As it was, each one was a new sparkling little _system shock_ while her hips were still struggling for the strength to chase that finger.

She didn't find it; he waited until she was breathing again, then circled her clit at that same firm, deliberate pressure—then waited for her shuddering spasm to relax, then pressed again, then circled again, then pressed, then circled, then pressed.

The pace was horribly, _horribly_ slow, just that single finger applying steady, methodical stimulation to the beat of an unheard clock, each tick grabbing at a keening sob in her, a high whine, a mewling hiccup, and she couldn't let a single one escape or it would all be over.

She thought maybe a fourth person had joined the trio outside, but she wasn't too sure it mattered when all she cared about was spreading her legs far enough that he might get the hint and _get inside her_.

She'd been _so empty_ for _so long_ and this was _so close_ and _so far_ from what she needed, and she couldn't even beg.

He didn't catch the hint.

Or, if he did, he was intent on denying her, on edging her closer and closer to release with that single finger.

The conversation outside kept going—she could still hear the faint lilt of voices through the blood pounding frantically in her ears, through the headrush, through the way her nerves crackled like a lit fuse—and if she'd been any more coherent, she'd be cursing, pleading for them to leave. As it was, it felt like the same kind of constraint as Akira putting her hands on the headboard and cheerfully informing her that he'd stop if she let go, then teasing her until she cried.

...Kinda like what he was doing right now, actually...

The wisp of a thought died an ugly death at the next circle-and-press, whiteout static behind her eyelids and a loud moan trapped in her throat.

He didn't stop, didn't speed up or slow down as she got closer and closer to a climax, just inexorably marched her up to the edge while she trembled in his arms, that molten, quivering sensation blooming out from the pit of her stomach to take over her whole body.

It was the hint of teeth applied to the shell of her ear that tipped the balance in the end, the littlest nudge of extra stimulation that dropped her, left her flying and falling and shuddering and coming, coming, _coming_...

She could feel herself gush even worse than before, built up arousal leaving her in a _flood_ while she twitched and clenched around nothing. Her hips stuttered silently while she did everything she could not to sob. The smug, searing curve of his lips against her hairline let her know that he knew _exactly_ how much noise she'd be making if she had the option.

The aftermath of the rush left her woozy and shaking, glowing and burnt out, roughly as satisfied as she was desperate for more, and still so, so _empty._

She melted against the warm, strong wall of his chest, the pounding of his heart rattling her bones, surrendering wholly and utterly to his embrace as he let go of her mouth and wrapped that arm around her in a much more substantial way. After a moment of stillness, he eased off her clit too, wiping his finger dry on the inside of her underwear, which freed up both of his arms to cradle her close and squeeze her in a gentle hug.

Deep compression wasn't his cock, but it was hitting so many of the same notes in her post-orgasmic bliss and it felt so _good_ she couldn't bring herself to complain.

The way he kissed her ear and breathed, "Good girl," into her hair was even better.

"Has anyone seen Morgana?" Haru piped up in the hallway. "I've been looking for him, too."

"Daaaaamn," Ryuji sighed. "Ann _and_ Akira _and_ the cat _and_ Yusuke? Where'd they all _go?"_

"No, I saw Yusuke, he's helping us look," said Makoto. "And Futaba said that she would rather, er, 'survive devils' than come with us, so at least we have a head count. Sort of."

"'Survive devils'? You mean like _Devil Survivor_?" That was Mishima. "Man, I'm jealous."

Even as Ann let herself turn to goo, Akira's pulse didn't slow, the tension in him staying rock hard. His breathing was even, but it was the kind of even that said he was counting through every inhale and exhale, not that he was any degree of calm.

She placed one static-tingling palm on his knee, then let it slide up his thigh.

His reaction was _beautiful_.

His arms clamped around her painfully tight, his whole body going rigid, his breath stuttering to a stop against the crook of her neck.

All that, just from one little pet.

Feeling all afterglow-loose made it much easier to slide her bike shorts over her hips and down her legs and quietly squirm around in his arms so she could straddle his lap. Having the edge off the tension made it much easier to remember to pull a condom out of her bra (this dress had no pockets and she'd predicted getting caught a few insurmountable meters from her purse, if not _this_ insurmountable) and much easier not to make a noise when she got a hand on his dick.

Hard and thick, so _hot_ she could feel it through the denim, throbbing and twitching for her touch, oh, oh, oh _yes_.

 _That_. That was what she'd been needing-wanting- _craving_ for so long, so _so long_ —

Condom. Needed to be quiet. Outside—

"Yusuke? Are you there? This is Makoto... No, we haven't found them yet. Did you check the west balconies?"

Akira had thrown his head back, a flush high in his cheeks and the long column of his throat on full display, his Adam's apple bobbing and the tendons popping with every silent gasp, his chest heaving and his stomach working as she went for the button on his jeans.

She pulled them and his boxers down farther than she would have at other times, aware of just how bad she was dripping and not wanting to ruin half his outfit with the mess she was about to make, but the way his erection _jumped_ once it was free had her thoroughly distracted.

She remembered what it felt like to have that filling her mouth, swallowing around all that velvety skin and musk and _heat_ as he struggled not to thrust and failed. Remembered the choked whimper he'd made as he came, the bitter-salty release coating her tongue and spilling down her throat, decadent and erotic and _sex_ , and the way the lingering taste had kept her wet and hazy for the rest of the day.

She remembered what it felt like to have that filling her pussy, that powerful sense of _completion_ , of being more than she was. Remembered the way her body just surrendered, completely and absolutely, the whole world distant and unimportant while she took whatever he gave her and loved it all, his pulse hammering against her entrance as he stretched it open and plunged into her core again and again and _again_ from any and every angle that struck his fancy—

...She was dripping on the carpet now, wasn't she.

She tore open the condom as quietly as she could then rolled it down his length with the ease of _lots_ of practice, an aching, longing sigh escaping her at how he felt in her hands.

His eyes went wide, only now catching what she was about to do, something like alarm skirting his expression.

Ha.

Revenge was _sweet_.

She flashed him a daring, unsteady little grin, poking her tongue out as she dropped down on him in one amazing _rush_.

And that was where her advantage came to an abrupt end, because _oh_.

_Oh._

Yes.

That was—

Oh. Oh yes, yes-yes-yes-yes- _yes_ —

Her eyes slammed shut, her head dropping onto his shoulder, doing everything she could not to sigh loud enough to catch the attention of anyone out there, listening to Makoto and Haru walk Yusuke through the various rooms on the west side, but _oh oh oh oh oh_...

Akira's fingers dug into her backside, brutally tight, every muscle in his body clenched _hard._ Barely breathing, trembling, his cock throbbing fast and hard and _hot_ , so hot, so _big_ it felt like he'd forced that space inside her as wide as it could get to accommodate the sheer _girth_ —

The lights flashing behind her eyelids weren't worth the four months she'd spent with nothing but her own fingers for company, but _wow_ what a consolation prize.

She had to take a moment to catch her breath, readjust to how this worked, remember how to function on any level at _all_ when it felt like he was so deep she could taste him on the back of her tongue—and it was only Ryuji's loud groan echoing off the walls of the parlor that reminded her that she couldn't just go to town right now.

The muscles in Akira's hips kept trying to twitch, mouthing a litany of swears through the harsh pants as he shook and shook and _shook_ , the hands on her ass trying and failing to get her to move.

Riding him for real would be way too loud to get away with, but she was honestly pretty satisfied with this—with finally, finally, _finally_ having him inside her, running a fever on the heat of his cock, that sweet little press against her still swollen-stiff clit, the way the fullness had her every muscle melting into sated jelly.

The wild, glassy look in Akira's eyes said that _he_ was _not_.

...It was possible that Ann should have thought this through a bit more.

She experimentally rolled her hips in a slow grind, gripping him with her inner muscles on the upstroke and relaxing on the downstroke, moving over only as many centimeters as she needed to make him _feel_ it, and the clicking crackle low in his throat told her she'd hit the mark.

She did it again, just as low and just as shallow, and felt more slick escape her. A third roll, and it started to leak down his cock in drips, getting his balls wet when she took him to the hilt again, and she was just getting started.

She'd definitely been right about the mess.

His flush was deepening and spreading, gorgeous against those inky black curls, thick eyelashes and finely cut features, the shadows nestled in his collarbones and the dip of his v-neck. Every roll sent another wave of agonized pleasure through his expression, biting his lip and spitting unvoiced curses in tandem as he held on to hips like she was a life raft instead of the tide. His eyes stayed screwed shut, taking faint glances at her only to slam his eyes closed again and shudder against her, holding her so tight he was probably leaving bruises.

She'd well and truly settled into the rhythm she'd chosen by the time Ryuji said, "Look, obviously we ain't gonna find 'em anytime soon. Can we just like... go?"

Makoto released a sigh and muttered almost inaudibly, "Well, I'm sure they're up to nothing good anyway." Then, at a normal speaking volume, she added, "I'll text them to let them know where we're going and if they don't reply, we'll leave."

"Sounds good," said Mishima, and blessedly, _blessedly_ , the quiet thumps of footsteps signaled a retreat.

Trapped between Ann's calf and Akira's knee, his phone buzzed.

They froze.

A few seconds later, Ann's phone chimed, muffled by the depths of her purse.

A beat passed, then two, then three.

No one came to investigate. Their friends were long out of earshot.

They were safe.

She tried to capture him in a kiss, but it ended with them panting into each other's mouths, lips brushing and pressing and stroking as a mere byproduct while she finally let him help her bounce on his cock, letting him pull out enough to hit her g-spot both ways and increasing her pace at his urging.

Neither of them lasted long after that, still swallowing their noises but unable to help the fractured bits that made it around their guards.

The crashing relief got pulled into the building tide of arousal, glowing, burning, _consuming_ her from her gut to her fingertips where they were clutching at his sleeves and her toes where they were curling in thin air, the rasp of their clothing and the brushing of their chests accentuating the thick, _powerful_ feeling of his hips slamming into hers as he stuffed her core _full_ over and over and _over_.

Her orgasm pulled and detonated like a _supernova_.

She collapsed against him for the third time in recent memory in the wake of it, the tail end blending seamlessly into wrenching aftershocks, fluttering and squeezing him through those telltale throbs as he sent slightly dulled warmth blooming out from where the tip of him was lodged against her cervix.

She mourned the opportunity to feel it even deeper, let his cum paint her from the inside out and stick around long after they were done, but ease of cleanup condoms promised had won out over appeasing that particular kink of hers.

And given the state of her bottoms and both of their crotches, they needed all the help they could get.

* * *

Skulking into one of the bathrooms for a wet washcloth and going back for a change of underwear for Ann fixed the damage for the most part, though her bike shorts were completely unsalvageable. Akira had pulled her close and kissing her forehead with an approving purr of _you did good_ as they both slowly stopped trembling, leaving her melty and warm as they left, and after all that? Math was _so much easier._

She actually _finished_ it. And then history and social studies, too. She'd even made decent headway into her essay by the time the others got back from the bowling alley they'd gone to.

"Wait, seriously?" Futaba asked later, looking up from her handheld to shoot Ann a startled glance. "You actually _studied?"_

"Well... yeah?" said Ann. "What did you expect?"

"I thought you two would be _all over_ each other," Futaba said with a blink, then turned back to her game. "Like, since when have you guys _ever_ kept it in your pants?"

Ann felt her ears burn as a parade of... _incidents_ marched through her mind. The road to _effectively_ keeping it secret that she and Akira were getting it on in public had been a long one.

One that had involved pulling wire-taps and bugs out of strange places, no less.

"Aw, come on," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "We have more self-control than that!"

"Huh," said Futaba, then swallowed the biggest lie Ann had told in a _long_ time without a single glance towards her legs. "Guess so."

Ann glanced down at her bare thighs, absently squeezing them together over that secret, deliciously sated glow that lurked between, and decided that she really was pretty glad she no longer had to worry about her math homework.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: the bowling alley was _not_ what was going down in the 'canon' version of this chapter... probably. i still haven't decided what happened then lol.


End file.
